En Vino Veritas
by HFS
Summary: Harry and Ron have a night out with some Firewhiskey


Rating: pg-13 (alcohol! Whooo! Look out!) Spoilers: GoF, kinda, only not Disclaimer: duh A/N: I just saw traffic and i was re-re-re-reading GoF a bit today and well, traffic had a good line (its the title of this), and i was in a harry potter mood. Slash=fun to right, and realistic on this case. Don't deny it, harry and ron want each other -HFS  
  
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En Vino Veritas  
  
"Hey Harry, watch my feet!"  
"You're asking the impossible, those things are enormous!"  
  
Ron gave Harry a little punch on the arm, his sudden movement almost slipping the Invisibility Cloak off them. "Shhhh, you'll get us busted." chided Harry, but his own giggles were distinctly hypocritical. Of course, he couldn't help it, they both had a swig before they snuck out, and it hit Harry, a booze-virgin, hard, augmenting his normal "we-could-get-in-so-much- trouble" giggles. Not that Ron was a silent stonefaced companion, he too stifled spasms of chuckles.  
  
They soon came up to the trophy room, their decided spot for trying It out. What's It? Only the finest wizard liquor around, Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. Ron had been sceptical at first, not wanting to try anything that Lockhart had professed a like for, but Harry (not on the only occasion) had convinced his redhead best friend to sneak out of Gryffindor tower in the dead of night. But not, Ron said, before they had a taste of it before they left. They did, and that seemed to put the edge off their doubts and fears.  
Adrenaline pumping in the way it pumps when you're wiping your arse with the rules, Harry and Ron crawled into the trophy room, and threw off the cloak, Harry cradling the Firewhiskey. Ron set out immediately to find their Special Awards for Services to the School they got in second year, and found them, beaming as he polished up his with the hem of his pyjama cuffs.  
Harry trotted on over to bask in the glory of having one's name carved in a piece of shiny metal, before sitting down on the floor with the bottle in his hands. Ron followed suite, landing hard. Of course, this led to another fit of giggles, Harry had to take off his glasses to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes.  
His eyes, unhidden by glasses, startled Ron with their malachite intensity. Ron suddenly stopped laughing, and Harry asked him, as eloquently as his brain, addled by alcohol and sleep-deprivation could, "Whassamatteron?"  
  
"Nothin."  
"Kay." said Harry, taking a swig as he passed it to Ron. Ron turned many amusing colors as he drank more than he could handle, and was coming close to matching his hair when Harry grabbed it back. "Easy there, tiger. You a'right?" His emerald eyes spoke concern from affection. Ron nodded his head, and exhaled loudly and quickly, as if out of breath. He looked up, meeting his azure eyes with Harry's jade. Their eye contact was unbroken for a few moments, but then Ron blushed and looked away, Harry doing the same a second later.  
"Sorry." Ron murmured, voice slurred.  
"Don't be," said Harry, "Yer just lookin' at me. I was looking back, too anyway. It's not painful er anythin'."  
"I dunno, looks can kill," said Ron, cerulean orbs glinting with a Fred n' George like mischief, "Or 'asnt't Hermione ever given you a Death Stare?"  
"Oh she has, plenty of times," said Harry, who took a sip of the Firewhiskey, "Got a pinch of Medusa in 'er, that one."  
  
"Maybe Malfoy'll think better of her if he finds out she's not all Muggle then."  
"Unless they're related. You've seen 'is Mum, haven't you? He'd be livid."  
"Almost as livid as when yer name popped out the Gobletafire."  
Silence. Neither Ron nor Harry had forgotten about their silent war up until the first task when they completely stopped talking to each other. It was painful to recall. Perhaps to dull the memory, Ron took another ferocious swig of Firewhiskey. He took a moment before he spoke again. "Look, I never prop'ly apologized fer givin' you the cold shoulder. I thought that you just didn't care about me enough to tell me 'bou puttin' yer name in. And what a prat I was fer thinkin' that you put it in inna firs' place. And I-"  
Harry cut him off. "'Course I care 'bout you Ron, we're best mates, right? You dun hafta esplain it all, I think I know."  
Peacock eyes swung up from the bottle to Ron, who was disguising his freckles with a blush. Softly, he whispered "...care 'bout you too 'Arry."  
Feeling loose and affectionate from such a touchy subject and the inebriation of such a potent liquor made Ron reach out and pull Harry in a rough hug, his indigo eyes going moist as Harry wrapped his arms back around Ron.  
  
"Love ya Ron."  
"Love ya too, 'Arry."  
Mustering up all his Gryffindor courage (with some help from good ol' fermented sugar), Ron, mouth level with Harry's forehead, kissed the boy on his legendary scar.  
Harry stopped. He let go. He pulled away from Ron, beryl eyes wide, full of a previously unknown delicious feeling. "Sorryarryishouldnnadonethat." Ron babbled, but it wasn't disgust that pulled Harry away, it was surprise at such a delightful sensation, one so charged with love. "No," he said to Ron soothingly, "It was..."  
  
Perfect.  
  
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